Magic in Music
by bunnyb
Summary: I suppose it's not really an alternative universe story anymore. :) Kind of fluffy, but worth the perusal of! Slash, but it's nice. Finally, I explain myself! And allow me to bow humbly before my reviewers. :)
1. Chapter 1

1 Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, even if they are in an alternate universe.  
  
BIG HUGE NOTE: Slash ahead, but nothing inappropriate. Not your cup of tea? Then leave before you dirty my napkins.  
  
2 Magic in Music  
  
He was not a man, but not a beast. He was a prince, of all things that a not-quite man could be. He looked in every respect like a man, but at night, when the moon was full, his real self was revealed. This was not a terror matter such as with werewolves or vampires, but it was of a more fantasy nature. The crisp moonlight would shine upon his golden shoulders and wings as delicate as a spider's web would sprout from his back. His fair skin would grow paler still until it nearly matched his wings. His piercing blue eyes grew ever more so, and his already lengthy blond hair grew even more. Perhaps godlike is a better term than faire for this prince, but that was the term given to him by the Old Wise Woman at the time of his birth. She knew everything about everybody, her accuracy was infallible and her opinions were never questioned. So a faire he was. A faire prince to the literal extreme. This prince was nearing the age at which he was to take over his father's throne, but the young man was not yet ready to do this. First, he wanted to see the world and all the wonders and magic in it.  
  
On his 18th birthday, he was to take his father's throne, so the day after his 17th birthday, the young prince set out on his quest to see the world. He packed little with him, and wore the clothing of a commoner. He vowed to see everything he could before the time came when, in a little less than a year, he would secede his father's throne.  
  
The morn that he left dawned clear and bright. With little agenda and a lot of desire for adventure, the faire prince left the palace grounds that he had known all his life, and set out for the nearby mountains.  
  
On the way, he had time to contemplate his fate. Why was he not man like everybody else? Why was the gift of wings and faire magic his? To what great purpose must he ultimately serve? These questions among others he contemplated as he continued his walk towards the mountains.  
  
Many weeks later, still unsure of his purpose in life, and nearly to the mountains, which were his ultimate goal (at least, for now), the prince had a strange vision. In his dream, he heard faint whispers of music coming from an unfamiliar musical apparatus. Colors danced in front of his eyes, and the sounds grew stronger until the music filled his ears like a great symphony performance in which he was sitting on the stage with. He turned his eyes toward the instrument, and the long, glamorous hands that were playing it. Before he was able to look past the hands though, he awoke. More confused than ever, the young prince set out on his journey once again early the next morning.  
  
While walking, the prince thought that he could hear the strains of strange music coming from the direction of the woods that lied between him and the mountain. As he listened, he recognized the sound as the one heard from his dream. As he headed into the forest, following the exotic sound, he grew more and more dissatisfied with his life. As a child, he had always been shy and quiet, and hence shunned by his peers. With his isolation grew his confusion, and as he aged he continued to understand less and less of the world around him. Why could he not play music such as what he heard? Why was he given wings yet could not fly? Why, with the light of the full moon did his skin change color and his eyes brighten? Why did his hair change, but not his heart? Why did he still feel like nothing more than a scared, confused little boy terrified of his classmates' mockery or his parents' disapproval? Why did his life contain such little pride? Hope? Love? He knew nothing of anything, and he felt that things would always be this way. So the lone faire prince continued his route through the forest, completely absorbed in his thoughts, and unconsciously following the sweet, strange music. It was not until he was practically upon the sound that he was snapped out of his stupor. Startled, he stumbled and collapsed on top of a small figure wearing a long, dark cape and holding a strange bit of shaped metal.  
  
The prince looked up to see what he had fallen upon. The first thing he saw was a pair of glamorous hands, exactly like those found in his dream. Following the hands were smooth arms that lead to strong shoulders, an elegant neck, and finally the most gorgeous face that the prince had ever set eyes on. The prince froze in shock. Although he was admittedly unsure as to whether the shock was from the fact that he had found this person so attractive, or because the person was male, or because of the mutual attraction that the prince could see so plainly printed in his eyes.  
  
The prince stared at the eyes of the enthralling musician, taking in their emerald brilliance. Tangled wisps of hair fell into them, making the boy/man seem as much a part of wild nature as the tree they had fallen down next to.  
  
With extreme caution, the prince brought his hand up to touch the other's cheek, as if fearing that the musician might disappear if touched, and the mirage would be revealed in truth to be some demon or monster.  
  
When the prince touched his face and discovered that it was a real person beneath him, he thought his heart might stop for joy. When the boy/man leaned up to kiss him, he thought it might instead burst from emotion. The strange, new, but good feelings came coursing over the prince's body as he returned the gift. The deepening of the gift brought a sudden epiphany to the prince. He did not need to know why anymore. He did not need to know why his life had been filled with so little pride, hope and love. Because he had all of them now, in the arms of a mysterious musician.  
  
Then, a strange thing happened to the prince. While he lay there next to his newly found love, he began to feel a tingling sensation in the middle of his back. He recognized it as the beginning of his transformation, yet there was no full moon. Confused and frightened, the prince could do nothing but wait until the process was finished.  
  
Once completed, he stood up to leave his musician, sure now that he could never want such a person as himself. He was a freak. A faire who could not fly. As he began to walk away, head down in despair, he felt one of the glamorous hands grasp his wrist. The musician turned him around, to look deep into his eyes before tenderly kissing him again.  
  
A strange feeling of power came over the prince. Heat radiated from his body, as an experience like never before attacked every fiber of his being. The prince stared at the musician in confusion. But then, realization dawned on him. With this power he could … he could … fly! Fly!  
  
With the feeling of greatest elation, he spread his wings and took off into the night sky. Next to him flew the musician, on his instrument.  
  
"You did this," said the prince, speaking to his love for the first time. "How?"  
  
The musician only smiled at him.  
  
Not willing to be put off so quickly, the prince questioned him again. "How did you give me the power to fly?"  
  
"I gave you nothing," said the musician, whose voice was sweeter than any sound produced from his instrument. "The power has always been inside you, but the questions of your heart made it impossible for your true abilities to shine. I only offered an alternative to questions."  
  
"By providing me with something I needed so desperately with no questions asked," said the prince. "Thank you," he added.  
  
The musician smiled again. "Everybody needs love in their life. There is no need to thank me."  
  
"But how did you know?" the prince asked. "You knew what I needed. How? You were waiting for me in the forest, weren't you," he said, realization crossing over his pale, beautiful face.  
  
"Yes," said the musician simply.  
  
"Why?" asked the prince.  
  
"That is a question that you no longer need answered," said the musician. The prince supposed that he was right, but decided that he needed to have one more question answered.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Somebody who loves you," said the musician.  
  
"Would you at least tell me you name?" cried the prince, desperate.  
  
"Harry," said the musician simply.  
  
"I suppose that's all your going to tell me." Harry nodded. "I also suppose you already know who I am."  
  
"Of course, Prince Draco," said Harry. Draco had known that this strange, beautiful, mysterious creature would somehow know his name, since his musician had already known his heart and soul, but it was still unsettling to hear.  
  
"Wait, where are you going?" asked Draco, noticing that Harry had turned to leave.  
  
"To where I can watch over you and wait until your journey is complete," said Harry.  
  
"But I don't need to go any farther! I have found you, and I do not need anything else," said Draco in desperation.  
  
"There are other things you need that you must find before you take the throne. But do not despair," Harry said, seeing the look on Draco's face. "I will always be with you. And at the end of your journey, I will be waiting for you." Kissing him softly again, Harry dropped from the air on his instrument to the treetops below, vanishing.  
  
For a moment, Draco was still, trying to memorize the taste of Harry's lips upon his own. Once this was accomplished, he too descended, and began his journey once again. He did not know what he would find, but he knew what treasure waited for him at the end of the road, and that was enough motivation for him. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The characters belong to JKR, even if they are all completely out of character.  
  
*Still slash*  
  
A/N: I wasn't going to continue this, but then I came up with this simile, and it really seemed to work, so, yeah. Enjoy.  
  
Thank you: Evil Windstar, loverwren, PotterMalfoy, Crystal Star Guardian, and mandé  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
It feels so strange to write to you. You, who I know nothing about, except that you are magic. I have only known you for a short time, and I have only spent a few hours with you, but writing this feels like home. I am coming home. Home to you, I hope.  
  
This is the hundredth letter I've written that I will never send. This is the thousandth time I've picked up a quill and begun to write the things I never got to say to you. This is the millionth page I've stared blankly at, trying to conjure up your image. An image that is no substitute for the reality.  
  
I am in a small village. The people here do not know me. They do not know you. I have asked them all, and nobody knows who you are. But there is this one girl who, when I mentioned your name, could not look me in the eye and tell me she did not know you. I wonder if she knows who you are or, more importantly, how I can find you. I do not know what you meant when you said that there are other things I must find. All I want to find is you. I want her to help me, because I think she can. But she will tell me nothing. Her name is Hermione Weasley, and she lives with her husband Ron. They are very mysterious people, and tend to keep to themselves. They are hiding something. Is it you?  
  
Ron has a sister, they call her Ginny. She is a year younger, but acts much more so. When I asked her about you, she told me I was delusional. She said to me that you did not exist. You were a mere figment of my imagination. They all know something, that family. Yet they will not talk to me.  
  
I miss you. I need you. I am nothing without you, and I have never been nothing. I am so weak without you by my side. All of my strength comes from you. Pathetic, isn't it. That is why I would never send this, even if I could find you. I do not want you to know me like this, as nothing. Daily I wander through the nearby woods, desperately seeking the sound of your music. I return to the village nightly, and ask the Weasleys about you. I beg them to tell me anything. I am sure they know something, but they will not help me. I go to bed every night in the hopes that I might dream about you again. About your glamorous hands, smooth skin, and eyes so brilliant that I would never need the sun if I could only have that light.  
  
You told me you would always be with me – where are you? Those hours that changed to days and then weeks that I spent trying to figure you out – who are you? The magic you instilled in me and the hope you gave when I had lost all my own – what are you? Questions again. I can see you shaking your head at me, the wild tendrils surrounding your face as you gently explain again that I need no more answers. I have never needed answers like I do now. I have never needed anything like the way I need you.  
  
Sweet musician, what must I do to share in your music again? On what quest must I embark to make myself whole again? Whole with you, my complement? My other half. My better half. My magic half.  
  
I have not flown again since that night. I do not know if it is because I cannot or I will not, I have not tried. Without you, the appeal is naught. I can feel no exhilaration by myself. The full moon comes tonight and I will transform. I will not fly. Not until my heart again can soar.  
  
Last night I had a revelation. When you changed my wings, you changed my pattern too. It was as if I was skating on a smooth pond, crystal clear like your soul must be, misting softly in its perfection. I always skated in the same direction. After an hour or so, the ice would be perfected again, all blemishes removed by a fresh coat of water, making the surface pure and whole again, and I would then skate in the other direction. The day I met you, it was like I had been skating in the same direction for years, and suddenly, with no pause to resurface the ice, I was going the other way. I was used to always leaning on one foot, but now I had to depend on the other one. The dominant one had to become submissive. That was how I felt. In my life, though uncertain, I had always been the dominant one. Nobody made my decisions for me. Then I met you, and I lost that control. Not that I minded – I trust you implicitly – but instead of being sure footed, I stumbled. I am in danger of falling, unless you will return to catch me. I am that submissive toe, instep, arch, and ankle that does not know if it will be strong enough to support the rest of me on its own. I need to feel your hand in mine, your arms around me, helping me to right myself again. It's only wrong when I am not with you.  
  
I need to go now, and burn this with the other letters that you will never read. I need to throw away the piece of my heart I have scrawled on this paper, and watch it wither and curl, and become smoke and ash. I will talk again to the Weasleys, I know they know something. I have to find out what that is. I cannot move on when my wings leave me grounded, my mind stays in the forest, my heart is unsatisfied, and my hand is not in yours. I will sleep now, and ask for dreams of you. I hope I can find whatever it is that I still have not, the thing that prevents me from hearing the music I long for, and seeing the musician that I long for even more.  
  
~Draco 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own them. Oh, if only. :)  
  
*Yes, this is slash*  
  
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The young faire prince sighed. He wanted to see Harry again so much. But something nagged at him from the pit of his stomach. There was this feeling. He could describe it as nothing other than that – a feeling – but something was amiss. Draco could only hope that this meant that the Weasleys had changed their minds and would help him find Harry.  
  
When evening came, Draco headed over to the modest house that sat on the very edge of the village. The house itself seemed out of place, like it was slowly moving into the woods beyond, as if it wished to become a part of it. *Or like it's hiding* Draco thought to himself. As he always did, he paused a moment before knocking on the door. Their knocker was the most intriguing thing Draco had ever seen. It was a carved symbol of some sort, and it was absolutely beautiful. It looked like it combined a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake together, yet Draco could not tell where one creature began and the other ended, so magnificently crafted was this knocker. Words in an unfamiliar language surrounded the edge of the crest. He recognized nothing but one word: his own name. He could not fathom why, but for some reason, one of the words on the symbol was Draco. This perplexed him, and had always hoped to ask the Weaselys about it, but if he could only get one piece of knowledge out of them, he wanted to know how he could find Harry.  
  
He ran his finger lightly over the snake (his favorite creature on the knocker) before firmly grasping the handle, and knocking on the door.  
  
Ron answered almost immediately. "Back again?" he asked, a sneer evident in his voice. This perplexed the prince also. True, he troubled them often for information about Harry, but this offered no explanation for such evident hatred.  
  
"I've come to ask again about my musician," said Draco.  
  
"He isn't yours!" Ginny could be heard yelling from within, as Hermione simultaneously called: "Let him in, Ron."  
  
Grudgingly, Ron stepped back from the door, allowing Draco to enter.  
  
"We are sorry that you must tire your feet every evening, but we know nothing about what you seek," said Hermione. She did not look at Draco. The prince appreciated her loyalty, but was frustrated by her evident lying.  
  
"And I say you do know. You know Harry. You probably know where I can find him. There is something about you," said Draco, not noticing as Ginny started.  
  
"Something different. You are all different. I just cannot figure out why!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Probably due to your lack of intelligence," said Ron.  
  
"Ron-" began Hermione.  
  
"No, madam," said Draco. "I can certainly stand up for myself." With that, he turned and looked Ron in the eye.  
  
"I'll have you know you've got nothing on me when it comes to intelligence," he spat. Ron's face changed so that it began to resemble his hair.  
  
"Why I ought to-"  
  
"Ought to what?" the prince taunted. "Hit me? I'd like to see you try. You, living in your little house, hiding from the big bad world and all the monsters in it. Let me tell you – I can be one of those monsters. Never pretend like you are better than me, commoner!"  
  
"So, you shine through after all," said Ginny, before turning and running out of the room.  
  
The prince gasped. What on earth had just come over him? He turned and ran after Ginny, all the while, his mind still in shock. *What just happened in there?* he thought to himself. *It was like another person was inside of me, talking through me!* Draco was terrified, yet he followed Ginny to the Weasley's garden, where she turned on him.  
  
"You have no right to talk to my brother that way!" she cried.  
  
"I know, I apologize a thousand times, I don't know what came over me!" said Draco.  
  
"I do," she said, coldly.  
  
"What?" asked the prince.  
  
"I know why you belittled my family. I know why my brother hates you. I know why you never deserve to see Harry again!" she cried.  
  
Draco had been about to apologize again, but the mention of Harry's name stopped him short.  
  
"You do know him!" he said.  
  
"Of course I know him," she hissed. "He is everything any man could hope to be. And he is everything you will never have!"  
  
"But I don't understand," he said.  
  
"You don't deserve to have him," said Ginny.  
  
"I realize I am not perfect. But couldn't I change? I would be anything he wanted me to be," said Draco.  
  
"You will never change. Not in this lifetime. Nor any other, for that matter," she said, turning again to leave.  
  
"Wait, miss, please. Tell me how I can see him – tell me so I can ask him what I must do to change! Or at least, he could tell me what I have done so that I do not deserve him," the prince cried in desolation.  
  
"You want to know what you have done?" she sneered. "I'll show you what you have done." Ginny thrust a small hand mirror into Draco's hand.  
  
"What is this?" he asked, his voice a whisper as he stared at the mirror. It was exquisite. It was the color of the sea after a storm, with tiny jewels sparkling along the edges. It did not belong to this world, but it seemed to the prince that it belonged with the door knocker.  
  
"This is my mirror of Noisulli," she said, her anger still apparent. "Find your own twisted truth in the backwards illusion!" she cried.  
  
Draco then gazed into the mirror, and gasped. Images began to flash through his mind. Trains, classrooms – but he'd never gone to a school before, he'd always had tutors – a small golden ball that seemed dreadfully important – Harry! *But he and I are dueling?* - He heard words, as clear as day, but faint, as if of a dream. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there," said a disturbingly familiar voice. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," was the reply. "I'd take you on anytime on my own … tonight if you want. Wizard's duel." What on earth was a wizard's duel? "You've picked the loosing side … I warned you … when we met on the train … it's too late now." Too late for what? And what was with these trains?  
  
He felt a great pressure as he was then pulled into the mirror. It felt as if his soul had been sucked out of his body, and transported … where? Where was he? He looked around in wonder.  
  
The prince had found himself in a small room, which was sparsely but comfortably furnished. Long, thick curtains blocked any sunlight (or moonlight – the prince had no idea ~when~ he was either) from entering. The only light came from a few tapered candles which glowed softly in the semi-dark. There might have been a dresser of some sort pushed against the far wall, but from the light of the candles, the only thing the prince could really see was a large, plush rug, and the figures laying on it. Draco started as he noticed just who those figures were.  
  
"Do you like me?" Harry asked.  
  
"Of course I like you, I love you. What kind of a question is that?" asked Draco. *Is that really me? What am I wearing?* wondered the prince.  
  
"No, I mean do you ~like~ me, as in separate from love? Separate from attraction, even," Harry persisted. *Why is he asking me such questions? Where are we?*  
  
"Why are you asking me this? Do you think I don't?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I guess I just get insecure sometimes."  
  
"The Boy Who Lived? Insecure?" Draco laughed.  
  
"Yes," said Harry. "Will you tell me why you like me?"  
  
"You really are insecure."  
  
"And you're mean."  
  
"Fine, whatever you want. If you must know, I like you because of your reality."  
  
"Don't follow," said Harry.  
  
"Well, I wasn't finished," said Draco. "As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," here he tossed a grin at Harry, "I like you because you aren't a phony. You believe what you want to believe, and you are your own person, despite the stereotypes and expectations. You give and give, and never think about taking. You are stronger than you think you are, braver than you appear to be, and sweeter than anyone knows. Except maybe me," he finished, with a laugh.  
  
Harry was silent, and Draco seized the opportunity to take his hand. He snuggled up closer and closed his eyes.  
  
"Thank you," said Harry.  
  
"For what?" Draco asked, opening his eyes.  
  
"For giving me something I needed with no questions asked," he said. The prince gave a small gasp when he heard Harry speak those words.  
  
"For goodness sake, Harry. You don't have to thank me for that." He gave another small laugh before gently kissing Harry's scar, *I didn't notice a scar before* closing his eyes, and drifting off to sleep.  
  
*He said the very words to me that I spoke to him! What strange universe is this?* the prince wondered, before he again felt the tug of the mirror. This time however, the scene before him was not so joyful.  
  
"Just answer me one question: Why?" came the cold voice.  
  
"I've told you before. I won't say it again." The reply was toneless.  
  
"I want you to say it again."  
  
"Get used to disappointment."  
  
Harry looked absolutely infuriated. "Give me one good reason why."  
  
Draco did not look at him as he continued to pack his bag.  
  
"Draco, for goodness sake, will you please answer me? Look at me!" Harry commanded, grabbing his chin, and forcing Draco's head to turn.  
  
"Let go of me," he said venomously.  
  
"Tell me why you are leaving."  
  
"Look. We have been over this before. Opposites attract, but they just don't fall in love," he said. He turned his head. Harry could not see the pain in his eyes.  
  
"How can you say that? You're lying and you know it. Don't give in to what your father wants!" cried Harry.  
  
Draco still would not look at Harry. "You belong on the side of light. I belong with the dark. The Mark is calling me, and I have to go." *Mark? I haven't any mark.*  
  
"You can't go. Come with me into the Order instead. I know you don't want to go. Don't let your father make you into someone I know you're not!"  
  
"Go hang out with your Muggles and Mudbloods, Potter. I've got better things to do."  
  
With that, the prince watched himself walk out of the room, leaving Harry in tears. *Muggles? Mudbloods? Potter? His last name?*  
  
"How could I do something like that to somebody I love?" It was not until he got a response that he realized he had asked the question out loud.  
  
"That is something we'd all like to know," said Ginny.  
  
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A/N~ Thank you:  
  
DaigonAlley, Shadow (was this a *little* better?), Tasuki, who is now being tormented by her muses as well as Zo, obsequiosity (oh, indigestion, Pie) Crystal Star Guardian (again, you're too nice), mandraco (actually, he doesn't), Banjodog, thecoffeebringer and Ninsetta Tristel Sundar.  
  
You guys are awesome! Thank you!! 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Alas, but no. They are not mine.  
  
*I'll bet you would never guess that this was still slash*  
  
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"How? What? Where?" The prince seemed unable to finish a single question. Finally, he settled on the one dealing with the matters closest at hand. "How did I get there, and how did I get back?"  
  
"You never left," said Ginny. "My mirror only shows an illusion."  
  
"Everything that I saw wasn't real?" asked Draco.  
  
"It was real. You simply weren't actually there. I mean, you were there at one point, but just a moment ago, you never left our garden," said Hermione. Draco looked up, surprised to hear her voice. He had not noticed her and Ron's entrance.  
  
"Where was `there'?" asked the prince.  
  
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Ron, in a slightly arrogant tone.  
  
"Witchcraft? Wizardry? I don't understand."  
  
"And it won't be the last time," said Ron, under his breath. Draco looked like he was about to respond, rather angrily in fact, when Hermione began to speak again.  
  
"Hogwarts is the school that both you and Harry attended," she said.  
  
"I have never gone to a school," said the prince.  
  
"Too good to mingle, hm?" commented Ron.  
  
"If you-"  
  
"You're attention, please!" exclaimed Hermione.  
  
"Please continue, madam," said the prince, while Ron looked a bit sulky.  
  
"It is the school you went to from when Harry was 11 to when he was 17," continued Hermione.  
  
"Not when I was 11 to 17?" asked Draco.  
  
"You need to ask where you were for seven years?" chortled Ron.  
  
"Ron, one more time and I'm going to have to ask you to check on how dinner is coming," said Hermione, her temper nearing the surface. Ron nodded, but tossed a look to Ginny as soon as Hermione's back was turned. Hermione decided to ignore this, and continue with her story.  
  
"I will start from the beginning. I do not know everything. I do not know why you left Harry's heart in pieces when you up and left one day. I do not know why you would not come back. I do not know why those I consider my family have been given a gift that you now stand a chance to receive." She paused for a moment, ensuring that she held the prince's attention.  
  
"For seven years, both you and Harry attended this school. You began as enemies from nearly the first day you met. For years, you clung to the hatred that had developed so prematurely. Neither of you noticed initially when you crossed the fine line from hate to love. It may not have started out as love, but that is how it finished. I remember the terror in Harry's voice when he told me how he felt. He was so afraid of what I might think of him, or worse, what you would do to him if he found out. He is incredibly strong, but years of neglect left him emotionally vulnerable."  
  
At this point, Draco looked as if he wanted to say something, perhaps to ask Hermione how anyone could have neglected such a creature, but she gave him no opportunity to interrupt.  
  
"I was not there when Harry reached his breaking point. He could not hide the way he felt anymore, and in the sixth year, he revealed his true feelings. Thank anything worth thanking, because you felt the same way. Or, the same in enough of a way for you to begin a relationship. You were never blatant, but never hidden. Both of you had come to accept what you had, and eventually you began to cherish it. As time went on, people used the term `soul mate.' I don't believe in using adjectives that are so imprecise. You cannot determine from the stars who you belong with. But even I could not deny the way you complemented each other perfectly. The blacks and whites or your personalities blended perfectly together, but not in the gray sense. You retained the individuality that made you so unique and perfect for each other, yet you were in every sense one.  
  
"The trouble started near the middle of your seventh and final year at school. Harry would often speak to me or Ron about you becoming ... distant was the word he used."  
  
Draco once again looked like he wanted to speak, perhaps this time to protest, but a withering look from Ron convinced him to hold his tongue a little longer.  
  
"He said you would often leave at night, and not return until morning. If he asked you about your nightly wanderings, you answered briefly or not at all. He, ahh, also mentioned something about, well, um, you seeming rather ... ~tense~ while, ahh ..." Hermione trailed off.  
  
Draco easily got the reference however, and a flush tinged his pale face. Ron and Ginny snickered, and Hermione threw them a poisonous look.  
  
"Anyway, things kept getting worse. You would get strange letters, and you never told Harry who they were from. You became more and more distant, and distracted. You started vanishing for days at a time, instead of just at night. Whenever you were there, you and Harry rarely spoke, at least, not about anything important. Harry told me that you refused to discuss what would happen after graduation, and that while asleep, you had nightmares where you screamed until he woke you up.  
  
"Eventually it reached the point where nobody could talk to you anymore. One day, not too far before the day you left, Harry confronted you about everything, and demanded an explanation. It was hard for him to talk to you as he did, to open his heart and soul and pour it out before you as he did. He said he thought he had you. For a moment, he said, you were going to tell him everything. Then you closed off again, and two days later, you packed your bags and left."  
  
Hermione paused again, as she caught sight of Draco's face. During the course of the later part of the story, a strange look had come over it.  
  
"And what is our prince contemplating?" asked Ginny, not quite able to keep the scorn out of her voice.  
  
"When you spoke just now, it was as if ... never mind, it was nothing, please continue," said Draco.  
  
Hermione looked unconvinced, but she completed her story anyway.  
  
"At the end of our seventh year of school, the Dark Lord attacked. It was expected of course, but there was nevertheless a horrible surprise. When Harry went to fight him, he discovered you on his side. Harry had never really believed that you would join with Him. He had been trying to convince you to join the Order of the Phoenix, a group of Aurors who fought against the Dark Lord. But, you did not. Harry never actually fought you, but it tore him apart to know that he was fighting against what you had felt was the right side. For a moment he actually wondered whether he himself had chosen wrong. If you would give up everything for a side, then maybe he was on the wrong one. But it the end, he saved us all, and was able to defeat the Dark Lord. It was for a price, though. So much time has passed, and nobody really knows what happened, but as far as the best theororists offer, many spells were placed before the Great Battle, to be enacted once the outcome was determined.  
  
"When He fell, it was as if it was a command for all of his followers to follow him in this respect too. It was as if a suicide pact had been formed amongst his closest subjects. The moment he hit the ground, the wave of instantaneous death that followed made His reign of terror all the more horrible. True, those that followed him had chosen to do so, but they did not deserve a unanimous death." Hermione bowed her head.  
  
Draco looked stricken, and even Ginny and Ron were extremely subdued.  
  
"When Harry found you-"  
  
"Stop," commanded Ginny. "He does not deserve to know what happened to Harry when he found him."  
  
"I wish you would stop telling me what I do and don't deserve. You're sister said herself she didn't know anything. You don't know me," said Draco coldly. Ginny quieted once more.  
  
"She does have a point, though. I will not go into what happened to Harry after you died. But I will tell you what happened to all of us." She paused for the last time.  
  
"The other spell in the air was the opposite of death. It was the promise of eternal life, and it was given to Harry, Ron, Ginny, myself and others. Whether the Dark Lord created this as punishment, or somebody else as a gift, nobody knows. But here we are, nearly 1,000 years later. In fact, in a few months, it will be exactly one millennium since His fall," she concluded.  
  
An awed silence hung for a moment, until the prince spoke at last.  
  
"But how then, am I here?"  
  
"There are many things I do not know. I do not know why you were reborn, but I do know the reason for your magic."  
  
Draco's attention was rapt again.  
  
"You were born into a Muggle, or non-magical family. You grew up into a life where magic was not known. But the magic inside of you ran so deeply and so strongly that it had to manifest itself, and it did so in the form of your wings, and faire magic. For years you lived as if you were out of place, because you lived in a world where you did not belong." Draco gave a small gasp as the truth of his life was revealed.  
  
"The last thing I can tell you is based on something I again know little about. I do not know why Harry came to you, or why he is offering you a second chance. My only guess is that his love for you was more important than what happened in a past lifetime. And he is giving you a second chance, to be with him, forever. What you need to find is your immortality. You finished on the wrong side. You must prove yourself to Harry that you are ready for the right one. I do not know how you must do this, but you must have it done by midnight on the 1,000 anniversary of the fall of the Dark Lord, when the full circle has been completed. I do not know for certain, but I believe that Harry has devised a way to return to that date, and capture part of the immortality spell to give to you," she finished.  
  
"But you had better prove your worth. I won't let you betray him again," said Ginny.  
  
"Harry will not be hurt on your account," agreed Ron.  
  
"I want Harry to be happy, and that includes him having you in his life, but if you are not everything he believes you to be ..." Hermione trailed off.  
  
"I understand, and I thank you for everything you have given me. I will leave now, and try to find whatever I need to," said Draco, who turned to leave.  
  
"Wait. Take my mirror with you," said Ginny, handing him the exquisite hand mirror.  
  
"Thank you," he said, before heading out of the garden. It seemed that even if the Weasely's didn't like him, they seemed to be ready to accept him. With a lighter heart, and a considerable store of knowledge, Draco set out once again.  
  
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A/N: Thank you:  
  
Twins of Destiny and Fate, Lilith, Darkmoon, *pie*, mandé, and Ninsetta Tristel Sundar. Really, thank you. :) 


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